#I'd like to think I am... you can't improve if you don't try in the first place right?

[burningcheese-merchant]

Mythological Inspirations: Matar Paneer Cookie Edition

So, where did Matar Paneer- nah I don't feel like making this joke again. Indian curry dish + crazy lion lady + demon slaying goofball pretty boy. BOOM.

Next installment of "Merchant rants about how far she went designing these fankids into a void for 10 hours"

Same as/with/for Pepper Jack, I researched and took inspiration from Egyptian and Hindu mythology while drafting up Matar Paneer. If Golden Cheese is Ra, and Burning Spice is Shiva, and Pepper Jack is the bennu bird + Ganesha... what does that make our little lady here?

Remember how Shiva has two sons? Jack is already one, so Paneer is, naturally, the other one. She takes after Kartikeya, second son of Shiva and Parvati, god of war and victory.

Kartikeya's primary color is red. So Paneer's is, as well. It's her favorite color and what she likes to wear the most. (It's also partially because of Burning Spice lol. Red will always = Papa to her to some degree)

Kartikeya is armed with a divine spear called Vel, which was a gift from his mother. Though Paneer wields and favors her katar, she will one day carry a spear alongside them, also a gift from her own mother (can't wait to tell that story haha)

One of Kartikeya's symbols is a peacock; this is because he has a giant peacock (named Paravani) as a mount. Likewise, I had Paneer befriend a peacock, which will one day grow big enough for her to ride around on herself (can't wait to tell that story either! I personally like my little interpretation of Paravani. Matar Paneer and her little bird bestie haha)

Kartikeya has a very innocent and playful personality; he's quite silly and mischievous, and likes to mess with things for fun (ex: messing with planets' orbits, stacking mountains on top of each other, stopping the flow of the Ganges river, etc). Paneer is quite similar (something else I didn't know beforehand, I swear. Paneer being a little gremlin just like the god she ends up taking after is another happy coincidence), going on little adventures and making messes and having... destructive tendencies like her Papa lol. (But she never means any harm. She's a good kid, she's just a bit impulsive and reckless)

Sometimes, Kartikeya is depicted with six heads (varies by scripture). Bit of a stretch, but I thought of having Paneer own six masks, each one wildly different from the other, that she'll often wear for fun. (I'll explain this better in another post)

Kartikeya is credited with defeating many monsters and demons, minor and major. So Paneer will grow up to become a renowned demon slayer, just like him (spoiling the end of her story there lol)

Golden Cheese is clearly inspired by Ra, Egyptian god of the sun and head of the pantheon (it's extra obvious with her Awakened form lol). The stories vary wildly from what I've seen, but the most baseline concept is that Ra has 3 daughters. Believing her to be the most fitting, I chose to have Paneer take after Sekhmet, Egyptian goddess of war, chaos, plague and medicine.

Sekhmet's primary color is also red. More red for our little lady. (All the war gods like red, so predictable smh)

Sekhmet is extremely violent and bloodthirsty, as her profession suggests. Born from the fire in Ra's eye, her main purpose in life is to protect him, help uphold cosmic order, and punish mortals for disobedience towards either. Paneer is... quite temperamental lol. Very strong-willed, very easily frustrated, very emotional. Fiercely protective of those she loves. And she can be... vengeful. Very, very vengeful. I will not elaborate further because it's spoilery as fuck lol

Like most of the other gods, Sekhmet is a furry part animal, with a woman's body and a lioness's head. Also a bit of a stretch, but... a certain young lady is getting a lioness tattoo on her back when she's an adult, as a nod/homage haha. Also, Golden Cheese's special nickname for her is "little lioness"

Sekhmet is often depicted with a lotus in one hand, and an ankh in the other. There, now you know why Paneer has a lotus in her hair lol (she's also getting an ankh tattoo when she's an adult, on her left wrist since that's the hand Sekhmet is always seen using to hold it (Paneer is getting a lot of tattoos when she's older, as you can see))

The Egyptians very much believed in names having power (common idea in the ancient world, really, but they were extra into it), so Sekhmet, like all the other gods, has like a billion names lol. To keep things simple (I counted 15 names the first time I looked into her and I'm pretty sure there's more), Paneer only gets a few: "Red Lady" (this one in particular), "Lady of Slaughter", "Mistress of Dread" and "She Before Whom Evil Trembles". The first three, people in general give her as a result of her actions/accomplishments (demon slayer, remember?) and are meant in a positive, reverent way (sometimes with a small touch of fear, admittedly). The last one is what High Priest Cheesenbird calls her. He has a term of affection/endearment for both children

Sekhmet can breathe fire; in fact, the Ancient Egyptians often credited/associated her with the hot desert winds because of it. I think I said this before already, but Paneer is a fire breather, too (she can light her hands and feet on fire, as well. Not a full-on firebender but not too far away)

In an interesting contradiction, Sekhmet is a goddess of both disease and medicine. She's bitter and wrathful, and causes plague outbreaks as a form of punishment for mankind... but she cures them, too. She's feared and looked to for salvation at the same time. She's even considered a patroness of physicians and healers. So... Perhaps our little firebreather has a hidden knack for healing, too. A secret power. One that's only noticed by another healer who would know how to spot and nurture such a talent *cough*Pure Vanilla*cough*. Maybe. Perhaps 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

Also, here's some doodles of more general things just because

There's little Paravani lol. Hopefully I actually start improving as an artist eventually, so I can draw Paravani better (or more in line with how he looks in my head. I don't really want a regular looking peacock, that's boring)

There's the little cheese lotus Paneer wears in her hair. Just used the one in the Golden Cheese Kingdom decor set as a reference 😅

Ankhs r cool 2 draw. Also, fun fact: they symbolize immortality and reincarnation. Reminds you of her mom, doesn't it? Haha

Tried to draw her katar (Indian knives. Basically Wolverine claws). They were a gift from Cilantro Cobra (she's alive and well in my personal canon ok 😫), and she went the extra mile to have little symbols engraved in both. Burning Spice's in one, Golden Cheese's in the other

She's supposed to have little green earrings that look like green peas ("matar" means green pea, "paneer" is the Indian cheese. Literally "green pea cheese" lol). Her design references the food she's supposed to be a lot more than Jack's, I think

Ok I'm done now. I'm sorry this post was so late. I'm also sorry this is all on paper and in shitty ass lighting, me no have drawing tablet. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[kichiyosh1]

"Maybe next time… I’ll have something better to say."

scaramouche, wanderer, kabukimono

4.8k words

A run-in with Scaramouche was never going to end quietly. One heated moment leads to you striking him, and immediately regretting it. But instead of the disaster you brace for, things shift. The conversation doesn’t go how it should, and neither of you seem to know what to make of it. It’s awkward, tense, and maybe… something else entirely too.

✧: contains dialogue of bickering, totally not scaramouche just belittling, degrading and dehumanizing you for his own insecurities. enemies to lovers' banter never hurt anyone, no? fluffish at the end

note: ahhh how I've missed writing, to those that know me, I'm back! and for those that don't, I hope I can interest you with this new piece of mine. I'd say it's a big improvement from how I used to write. I am no wordsmith, but I hope my current skills will suffice. enjoy! ( I've been reading way too many HL fanfics my brain's becoming mush agjsahgaghss)

Scaramouche kept a strict standard in all things, from the moment he rises to prepare for the day to how he'd like his missions to be carried out. Accuracy and precision are absolute; even the slightest error would betray a flaw in him. Hinting to a past he’s already left for dead.

He was never one to hesitate to point out the shortcomings of others. In his eyes, flaw was weakness, and weakness had no place in his presence. He scrutinized every action, every word, not out of malice but because he believed he had the right. Perfection was not an ideal to him. It was a requirement. To falter was to be exposed, and vulnerability was something he refused to allow, neither in others nor in himself.

Even now, lost in his usual riigid thought, his mind drifts uninvited, unwanted, to you. He exhales sharply through his nose, a trace of irritation rising in his chest. He shouldn't be thinking about you. The very person where all his ideals go to die. And yet, here you are, lingering in the back of his mind, like an ich he can't locate and be rid off.

A strong General, a candidate for a spot amongst the other harbingers. He's heard stories of you. Agents whisper about how you single handedly wiped out an entire enemy camp. Cicin Mages murmur praise about your quick thinking in battle. And inevitably, the stories always end the same way, with fawning admiration for your strength, your charm, your ability to command a room without even trying. It grates on him more than he cares to admit.

A waterfall of exaggeration he thinks…

You are flawed. In fact, you have many. He’s seen the way your fingers twitch at the hem of your clothes when you're anxious, as if trying to hold yourself together thread by thread. “Quick thinking” they say, perhaps it's because you don't bother to think at all, your body moves on instinct before your mind catches up, reckless and unrefined. A creature led more by impulse than calculation.

The corridor was quiet, the low hum of distant machinery and footsteps echoing faintly through the polished stone walls of the Tsaritsa’s Palace. He walked with practiced precision, posture sharp, each step purposeful. His thoughts were occupied, dissecting faults that weren't his own, when a sudden movement entered his path.

And just his luck, no, more fittingly, his misfortune, he rounded the corner and your worlds collided. Literally.

A sharp step, the brush of fabric, a sudden halt. The impact was small, but the offense felt monumental.

"Watch it."

The words slipped from him, low and cold, not barked but bitten off. His eyes met yours for the briefest moment, narrowed and unreadable, like a blade sheathed just enough not to draw blood. In truth, he had seen you coming a second too late, but pride would sooner shatter than admit fault.

You stood there, surprised, perhaps apologetic. Or worse, unbothered.

And that irritated him even more. But after a moment you open your mouth to speak

“M-my apologies, I was in a hurry and—”

“Was that a stutter I just heard?” You can see the look of disgust on his face, not that he was doing anything to be discreet about it. This causes you to raise a brow.

“So what of it? I was obviously startled.” You're willing to admit you share a fault in the predicament, but engaging in a fair conversation with scaramouche would be akin to walking over a pit of venomous snakes, which is why you try to thread your words as carefully as you can, lest you wish to get bitten.

“Sure. Let's go along with that.” He took a step forward, his kasa tilting just enough to reveal narrowed eyes. It was a mannerism you’d seen before, one he reserved for those he deemed beneath him. With that traveler from another world, his kind act was all a facade. But with you, his intentions were laid bare.

“Though, are you trembling from the cold… or something else entirely?”

This wasn’t the first time you’d encountered the Balladeer, yet every time his gaze settled on you, it burned, sharp, unrelenting, and far too intense. His snide remarks and carefully veiled insults never failed to make their rounds, each one more infuriating than the last. Still, you managed to remain professional to the bitter end.

That didn’t stop the twitch in your eye or the veins now visibly pressing at your temples. You took a slow breath.

“Must you nitpick the smallest of things? Have I done something to upset you, Balladeer?” You've always remained docile between your interactions with others, with the intent to not get on their bad side. But when it came to Scaramouche, that became increasingly difficult. What you didn’t realize, however, was that very calmness you held onto was exactly what stirred the fire in his blood.

“Perhaps. It's not what you've done, but rather what I've heard you did, your so-called achievements. In which case, I was right to believe it was all nothing more than ludicrous exaggeration.” He spoke the words like a fact. He's perceiving you like the dirt beneath his feet. Something meant to be trampled on, not acknowledged.

A part of you knew nothing good would come of this already spiraling conversation. Why bother trying to fill a cup with water when he insisted on poking holes in the bottom just to watch it leak? You had offered clarity, reason, and even restraint. Yet every word out of his mouth chipped away at your patience like a steady, deliberate tap against glass.

Your fingers twitched again at your side, a quiet habit you barely noticed anymore. You shifted your weight, eyes briefly darting to the hallway behind him. Maybe if you turned now, you could salvage what little dignity remained. No victory would come from trading words with someone who only spoke to belittle. You weren’t going to win. Not because you lacked wit, but because he didn’t care for the truth ("only his truth," you internally corrected yourself), but only the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

You exhaled slowly, preparing to step away.

But before you could turn—

“Now that I've got a good look at you, you share the same traits as a rabbit,” he murmured, tone venom-laced silk. “Yes, pretty to look at, and make wonderful pets as well, but also fall prey to everything around them.”

His hand lifted without warning. Fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw, a mockery of gentleness in the way he examined you like a specimen. His eyes narrowed, analyzing, degrading.

Your blood ran cold at his words, but then, just as quickly, it boiled.

“You're one to talk.” Your voice didn’t rise, didn’t falter. Calm, steady, and deliberate. You tilted your head slightly, stepping back just enough to break the contact, yet your gaze didn’t leave his. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch.

Inside, your thoughts simmered, not in rage, but with quiet disbelief. If he expected you to shrink away, to play the role he carved out for you in his twisted narrative, he was sorely mistaken.

You were still standing. Still composed.

And he hated that.

“Hmm…” he drawled, taking his time with the sound like he was sizing you up.

He looked you over again, this time with clear intent. There was no admiration in his gaze, only cold scrutiny. He studied you the way one would examine something fragile, waiting for it to crack.

“How far do you think you can go before your body gives out under the pressure of your role?” he said, tilting his head slightly, voice calm but cold. “You walk around acting like you’ve got it all under control. Straight posture, voice level, like you’ve got something to prove.”

In a swift movement, he leans in by your ear, and your breath hitches. “But I see it. The fatigue behind your eyes. The way your hands tense when no one’s looking. The effort it takes for you to stay upright on this sinking boat of yours. You’re holding it together, sure, but barely.”

He paused, his expression sharpening.

“When it finally breaks, I’ll be there. Watching. A sight I’ll be thrilled to see.”

Something in you snaps.

Without thinking, your palm comes in contact with his cheek, the sound sharp and unforgiving. His head jerked to the side, and for a heartbeat, everything was still.

He turned back to you slowly, his hand now cradling his face, fingers pressed lightly against the reddened skin where your slap had landed, though his grip was tight enough to betray the sting. His expression twisted into something between disbelief and murder. Rage simmered just beneath the surface, the corners of his smile not reaching his eyes, twisted and humorless.

“Hah. Have you gone mad?” His voice was quiet, far too quiet. He looked at you like you’d just committed a grave sin, like he was on the brink of just erasing you from existence.

For what it's worth, it was taking everything within you not to drop down on your knees and apologize right there on the spot. Hell, Your heart thudded in your chest, sharp and loud in your ears, like it was punishing you for acting on impulse. You weren’t the type to lash out. Despite your rash decision making, you were never one to exact violence on others unless it was necessary.

And yet here you were, palm still tingling from the impact of striking one of the Harbingers, the Balladeer, like he was just another irritant in your day (which from how things have been unfolding, he's becoming a constant). You could already imagine your ancestors rolling in their graves. No doubt they were gasping, clutching their chests from the spirit realm, watching your reckless decision unfold in slow motion.

Still, you refused to let your face show the panic bubbling under your skin. Your posture remained firm, and your jaw was set, even as your mind screamed that this might have been the biggest mistake of your life.

You met his gaze, forcing the quiver in your voice back down your throat.

“You’re deserving of another,” you said slowly, each word weighed carefully. Your fists were clenched at your sides from irritation and to keep your fingers from trembling. The silence that followed was thick and oppressive. Your heart was still racing, but you held his stare. If you were going to die for this, you weren’t going to do it acting like a bumbling fool, that's for sure.

You drew in a slow, steady breath, trying to keep your voice level even as your pulse hammered in your ears.

“What’s your problem? You're talking to me like I wronged you in another life. Like I'm your sworn enemy. I don't recall doing anything worth picking a fight over.”

You spoke before you could second-guess yourself, a calm mask stretched over the mild panic crackling under your skin. There was an edge of frustration in your tone, but you kept it low, unwilling to give him the pleasure of seeing you rattled. Then your breath hitched again, barely, but enough to notice. You didn’t mean for your voice to waver, but the heat in your chest was rising. The pressure of his stare, the hostility in his words, it was overwhelming in its own way.

Scaramouche’s gaze flickered for a heartbeat, a shadow of something almost melancholic passing through his eyes. It was gone so quickly you wondered if you only imagined it.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true,” he murmured, his voice dipping for just a moment. Something in his expression shifted, it was faint, unreadable. You caught it in the silence that followed, but it passed too quickly to name. He blinked once, slowly, then lifted his chin and resumed that same sharp, composed stare, as if nothing had changed in the moment.

“Meek and foolish… but bold, I'll give you that.” But even as he said it, a thought gnawed at him. He could’ve ended this long ago, struck you down and walked away without consequence, so why hadn’t he?

He’d done worse for less. One move, and this would be over. Easy.

So why was he holding back, letting you speak, letting you look at him like you saw something he himself doesn't wish would come to light? It gnawed at him, this hesitation. He’d never allowed such restraint before, not for anyone. Yet here he stood, teeth clenched around something unnamed, unsure whether it was curiosity, defiance or fear.

For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke. The air hung heavy, not with hostility, but something quieter. He didn’t strike back with a fresh insult. He didn’t lash out or silently mock you. That, more than anything, gave you pause.

You really didn’t know how it had gotten to this point. Frustration burned low in your chest. Because every word he said felt like a challenge, like he wanted to get under your skin just to prove he could. He twisted everything, met every response with something sharper. It was exhausting.

Why haven't you just walked away? Shut this all down before it spiraled any further. But then, just for a second, something changed.

For a fleeting moment, he didn’t seem like a Harbinger or a tyrant trying to tear you down. He just looked… tired. Alone, maybe. Worn down by something you weren’t meant to see. And somehow, that made somethinga in you stir.

You weren’t sure why, but your anger eased. Not entirely, but enough to make you hesitate. That momentary crack in him dulled the edge of your frustration.

For someone so quick to point out the flaws of others, he was full of them himself. Whether he acknowledged it or not. And somehow, that realization made your chest ache in a way you didn’t expect.

There was something sad about it. About him.

Perhaps he was like this because he was covering something up. Not power or pride, but insecurity. Fear. A need to stay untouchable so no one could get close enough to see where it hurts.

You took a slow breath, grounding yourself again.

“—Although preferably in this one, I would like it if we weren’t,” you said, voice softer now. “I have no reason to hate you, Balladeer. So please, don’t give me any reason to.”

Your words were measured, a plea wrapped in firm resolve. Inside, you chided yourself for sounding almost diplomatic when your nerves felt like frayed wires. Still, you met his stare without flinching.

He scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive, but it lacked its usual venom. His arms crossed, and for once, he’s the one to break contact away from your gaze.

“That's not something new,” he muttered. “I’ve got enemies too, you know. Some within the Fatui who’d be thrilled to one day witness my downfall. Adding you on to the list, as far as I'm concerned, won't make a difference.”

It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even self-pity. It sounded more like a fact he had long accepted. A sad fact. But even in that resignation, you could hear the weight of it. Like someone who had never expected kindness in the first place.

Perhaps all this time, it was never his intention to harm directly. It’s something else. Subtler. Like he points out others’ flaws just to keep them from seeing his own. Maybe it’s projection. Maybe it’s self-defense. Either way, it's starting to feel less like cruelty, and more like fear, disguised as control.

“I see a tempest in those eyes of yours,” you said quietly. And you meant it. Not just a storm of rage or ego, but grief, bitterness, and something deeper that had never found peace.

Your gaze held his, steady despite the tightness in your chest. You weren’t sure why you said it, or why your voice came out softer than expected, but the words hung there between you. For a moment, you could swear his expression flickered, just slightly. A twitch of the brow. A brief shift in his stance. Something he quickly smothered.

Still, you saw it.

He knew you did.

And he wished you didn't.

Scaramouche never felt cold. He never felt warmth. He never truly understood the concept of any of it. What he was, was an enigma, even to himself.

When others breathed, he mimicked it, despite having no need to. When others slept, he shut his eyes, though weariness never touched him. When others cried, he could force tears from his eyes, though not once had he truly felt the weight behind them.

At Least not anymore.

And yet, when he looks at you, something twitched. Something restless stirred beneath the calm he'd carved into himself. He didn't like it. Didn't understand it.

You were flawed. Irritating. Far too human.

But the way your eyes looked at him, like you saw more than you should. It made something inside him ache. And he hated that more than anything.

You seemed to pick up on his distress, no matter how carefully veiled he tried to hide it. He always ended up off-set around you. Unsteady. A feeling he despised, almost as much as he feared it.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for this skill if the whole thing didn’t feel so… wrong.

It was uncomfortable on your part seeing the Balladeer not… acting like the Balladeer. Scaramouche.

Whatever that entails in your mind, you're not quite sure. You just knew something was off, and you wanted no part in it longer than necessary.

Still, you stood there, mentally hyping yourself up, for what, to be the bigger person? For the Balladeer, no less? Now there's a dreadful thought. But truthfully, you didn’t know how else to move this conversation along. If you could even call it that.

“Fortunately for you, I’ll have to cut this short,” you finally said, voice cool but controlled. “We all have places to be, I’m sure.” You meant to walk away this time, you really did. You've already shifted your weight forward, already placing one foot in front of the other.

“Once again, I apologize for bumping into you. If I could, I would’ve taken a different route, anything to avoid ending up like this. Truly.” You couldn’t believe you were apologizing a second time, but it was either that or keep playing this endless game back and forth. And you already knew it would lead nowhere.

You expected a scoff. A sarcastic quip. Maybe even a snide remark to send you off. Instead, what you got was silence. Then, when you glanced back, something different. Scaramouche wasn’t sneering. He wasn’t grinning. He almost looked… pained. Just for a second. His eyes didn’t meet yours the way they usually did, with challenge or contempt. He was avoiding it. Hiding something behind a too-still face.

Why?

“What makes you say that?” he asked at last, his voice low, too even.

You blinked. “Say what?”

“You know what I mean. Surely you aren’t that brain dead.” He looked at you, waiting, expecting some flicker of realization to appear in your eyes.

But it never came.

And for a moment, he started to wonder if he was the fool here.

“My, what a tragedy it must be huh.” There was a weight in his words that hadn’t been there before. Like he wasn’t talking about what happened, or the apology, or even the conversation anymore.

You don’t know what he’s trying to say, and maybe he doesn’t either. First, he lashes out. Then when you finally respond in kind, he doesn’t stop, he keeps pushing. But the moment you start to really see past his facade, which you know it is, he hesitates. And now he’s looking at you with this strange, unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. He gives you that look, like he’s silently asking, 'Is that it?' Like some part of him hoped you wouldn’t just walk away.

You catch it, that flicker of something raw, almost vulnerable, barely held back behind his carefully built walls. It's there for a breath, maybe less, before he shuts it down completely. The weight in his eyes vanishes, replaced by the cold, familiar mask he wears so well. Once again.

He straightens, scoffs softly like he’s mocking himself more than you, then speaks.

“Do you think I’m gonna let you walk away from striking me, a Harbinger? Only a fool would do such a thing, and a fool you are.”

The venom returns to his tone, but it doesn’t land the same. It feels like a defense, like he’s scrambling to put distance back where it briefly slipped away. And for all the fury in his words, there’s something else laced beneath them. A tension that doesn’t match the bite he’s trying to deliver. Something unspoken, but not unnoticed.

You’re not sure why, but you find yourself scrambling for a distraction, anything to pull the moment back from wherever it’s threatening to go. Your eyes drift to his face, searching for something to latch onto. And you go for it.

“U-uhm… your face is red."

His brow lifts slowly. In a way that you didn't think he was capable of pulling off on that face of his.

"Well, that came out wrong."

Did you really just say that? Were you implying he was blushing? That he, Scaramouche, The Balladeer, a Harbinger feared across nations, was somehow flustered? Have you completely lost your mind?

For a split second, the air between you tenses. His stare narrows, and you're pretty sure you just issued yourself a death sentence. Your breath catches. Backpedal. Now.

You quickly raise a hand, pointing to the side of his face, the one you’d struck earlier. “I-I meant… from earlier. The slap.”

Something shifts. The tension sizzles out, and realization flickers in his eyes.

“Ah. That. Right ” he murmurs. He repeats the words more to himself than to you, almost as if reminding himself of where this all began.

His slender fingers rise to his cheek, brushing over the warm skin there with a touch that’s strangely absent of anger. He lingers there a moment too long. He could still feel the sting, not from the strike itself, but from the fact that it happened. That he had let you get close enough to land the hit in the first place. That someone like you had dared, and worse, that he had let it slide. No lightning, no retaliation, no immediate retribution.

That should’ve been the end of you.

“I ought to throw you underground and let Dottore and his clones pick you apart like one of his specimens as punishment,” he says finally, tone flat as glass. “Or I can just end you here myself.”

The words should have been terrifying. But they weren't. Not what’d you think he's trying to make them out to be. They fell flat, worn smooth from overuse. Threats had become his reflex, delivered as automatically as breath. He’s not trying to scare you anymore. He’s trying to reset. Push you away before you get any closer. Before you start peeling away at something he doesn't want uncovered.

“Before any of… uhm, that,” you murmur, letting your hand hover awkwardly between you, unsure whether to point at his cheek or simply drop the subject. “At least let me tend to your face. It’s the least I can do.”

''Before I die?" you think, though you wisely choose not to say it out loud.

Scaramouche’s eyes flick down to your hovering hand, then back to your face. The faintest crease marks his brow, as if he cannot decide whether your offer is foolish or curious.

“What makes you think I’m not perfectly capable of handling it myself?” He speaks evenly, but there’s something off, something that hums like a frayed wire behind the smooth delivery. Not exhaustion in the way humans feel it, but a kind of dull wear that comes from holding himself too tightly for too long.

You manage a small, steady breath. “Take it as my apology for hitting you.” A heartbeat’s pause, then honesty slips out. “I don’t regret it, though. You crossed a line.” jerk. You bite your tongue.

There’s the faintest upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, too brief to be certain. “Likewise.”

For a fleeting instant, you think he might leave it at that, some silent truce, an unspoken agreement that you’d both landed your share of blows. You actually think he’s dropped his ego long enough to admit something vaguely human. But then his gaze sharpens just a little, pride flickering back into place like a reflex.

“Regarding your latter statement,” he adds, tone colder but lacking real bite. It’s petty, precise, and undeniably him, a last-second jab to reestablish the upper hand. Just the Balladeer being the Balladeer. A little bruised, a lot stubborn.

You huff, tension easing just enough to tease him. “You’re impossible.”

He tilts his head, almost thoughtful. “And you're infuriating.”

Despite the words, the moment softens. You notice the stiffness in his shoulders ebb, only a fraction, but enough to prove he is not made entirely of steel. He studies you as if weighing risk against relief, deciding which feels heavier on his tongue.

The corridor seems quieter now, as though even the distant machinery has dimmed to grant you both this fragile truce. The sting on his cheek still blooms red, a stark reminder that you can break through the surface. He can feel it too, pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. Something vulnerable lives there, beneath habit and threat.

Slowly, deliberately, you reach for the cloth tucked into your belt pouch, a simple scrap, dampened earlier from your canteen, something meant for scrapes or dust, not this. Your fingers tighten slightly as you draw it out, trying to ignore the part of your brain screaming at you that this could still go very wrong.

You step closer. Your hand is steady, but every nerve underneath is braced like you’re standing in a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to strike. You extend the cloth between you, not forcefully, not timidly either.

“May I?” It’s a small question. One that carries no challenge, no sarcasm, no agenda. Just quiet sincerity. Just patience.

He does not move, but he does not flinch either. A subtle concession. His lashes lower, the faintest sigh escaping him as if surrendering costs less energy than more bravado.

“Just this once,” he mutters, voice quiet, but no less sharp. “And if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone… I'll see to it that even Celestia doesn't have a place for you.” he doesn't elaborate, he has no need to.

You dab the cloth gently across the reddened skin. He keeps perfectly still. For once, he is silent without being threatening, and you realize how rare that is. The silence between you lingers, strange, but not unwelcome. He doesn’t stop you. Maybe he should. Maybe he wants to. But he doesn’t. And for some reason, that feels like enough.

When you draw back, he watches you tuck the cloth away. His cheek is still flushed, but the worst of the heat has faded. Your pulse steadies in your ears, the moment hanging quiet and unsure between you.

“That... will suffice,” he mutters, barely audible, as if the words taste unfamiliar. Not quite gratitude, but close enough to pass.

You nod, a touch of dry humor softening your voice. “Any time you decide not to kill me on sight, feel free to ask.”

There it is again, that small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of something softer. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, tone low, almost casual. and for once, it doesn’t sound like a threat.

Neither of you moves right away. The silence between you has changed, no longer tense, no longer sharp. It hums with something unspoken, something neither of you would dare name. Not yet.

You step back first. Then him. The space returns, safe and familiar, but it feels different now. A little warmer than before. The corridor hums again, a reminder of where you are, of who you’re supposed to be to each other. Still, something lingers.

You turn, ready to walk away. But as you do, you can’t help but think, maybe next time. Maybe you’ll bump into each other again, on a different day, under better circumstances.

And in the stillness that follows, he’s thinking the same. Not that he’d admit it. Not even to himself.

Just a quiet, reluctant thought:

Maybe next time… I’ll have something better to say.

[chronicsydspams]

I'm about to piss off the ENTIRE TLOU fandom but I'm SO past the point of caring. Bella Ramsey is a more accurate portrayal of a 19 year old not only in their mannerisms but THEIR LOOKS.

"They don't look mature enough" that's because Ashley Johnson was in her mid 30's playing a 19 year old, and in the game, Ellie's face Especially still carries that. AFAB people Especially don't magically change their facial structure from 14-19 unless they had work done. you don't start seeing that happen till your mid-late 20's.

You don't look OR act like "a mature adult" when you're 19, it just doesn't happen. so expecting this (even from a fictional character) is still rather bizzar to me. and saying shit like "she's being too goofy" here when we've gotten basically No clips of her after she loses Joel is also a null in void argument. Even in the game before she loses Joel, Ellie's particularly monotone; but if they're going about this the way i think they're going to, then the stark contrast between her being goofy and the unbridled rage would actually be an Improvement from the game.

and I straight up can't tell if it's been That long since people have played TLOU2, or if they're just being Purposefully obtuse because of their hate boner for Bella as to why they're acting like Ellie's mad at Joel for no reason whatsoever (this isn't towards people who haven't touched the games and don't know the story, this is towards people who know and are still whining like little crybabies about everything)

"Should have recasted like in HOD" so THAT doesn't work either because for Rhaenyra they're going from 15 to like 32. from a teen to an ACTUAL adult, not a Young adult. 5 and 15 years apart are Very Much not the same thing here.

And it really seems that my fellow lesbians have Also been perpetuating the "Bella isn't "conventionally attractive enough" for me to sexualize" to which i expected better from you guys, honestly.

"we're allowed to nitpick" no it sounds like you're crying because you didn't get your way, in What reality would they have recasted Bella as Ellie? would you be complaining less if we waited another 10 years for Bella to be in their 30's and Then you'd stop complaining about them looking so young? probably not, because Bella doesn't fit conventional beauty standards.

And if I'm going to be Remotely honest, I'd rather have someone who can Act the part rather than someone who looks "close enough" but can't act for shit, which is what I'm seeing with all these tiktok "recast suggestions"

With that, I think I've yapped enough, and am going to try and weasel my way out of enemy territory and find Bella Ellie edits 'till next Sun. thank you for your time.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Beside Mister S's Mystery Shop]

[students clamor outside shop]

Vil: Sigh… What a waste of a trip. This is what happens after I made the effort to come all the way here?

Deuce: Schoenheit-senpai, hello! That was a pretty big sigh… Did something happen?

Vil: I had just come by Sam's shop here to pick up something I ordered and there happens to be a sign posted on the door saying he's not in right now.

Deuce: Eh!? Really? Man… I had some shopping I had to do for my dorm, too.

Vil: It said he'll return within 30 minutes, but I have plans after this already. Unfortunate…

Vil: Especially since I don't have much free time what with the birthday party we're throwing at our dorm tomorrow for my birthday. I guess I'll have to come back another day…

Deuce: Oh, is it your birthday tomorrow? Then, I can pick it up for you!

Deuce: I gotta buy some stuff of my own anyway, so think of me doing this as my gift to you.

Vil: Well now, if you say so, I'd like that. Would you be able to bring my merchandise to my dormitory after classes tomorrow?

Vil: If you time it right, you may even attend my birthday party.

Deuce: The party!? I mean, I guess I am curious what kind of food you guys'd serve… But is it okay that I join, even if I'm from a different dorm?

Vil: I don't mind whatsoever. I'll let the party planner know. I appreciate you picking up my order. See you later, then.

[Pomefiore Dorm – Ballroom]

Vil: ―98, 99, 100! Whew…

[door opens, Rook greets Vil]

Vil: …What terrifyingly perfect timing, Rook. I had just finished my exercises for the day.

Vil: Then, go ahead and start your report. The first matter at hand are the equipment requests? I see. Show me their applications. I'll look over them.

[flips pages]

Vil: ―I see no issues; I'll submit them as is. How are the ballroom reservation requests looking?

[Rook speaks]

Vil: …Oh, there seems to be quite a lot this week. Have you already put out a coordination notice? Good.

Vil: This ballroom is a place that allows our students to refine themselves even further… So we should do what we can so that they can use it as much as possible.

Vil: We can use the schedule you laid out without any changes, Rook. Next topic.

Vil: Have the students who were cited during last week's surprise dorm uniform inspection fixed their attire?

[Rook speaks]

Vil: Everyone successfully passed re-inspection? Good… As proud Pomefiore students, I do hope that no one fails next time.

Vil: Alright, we'll call it there for today. I'll go take a shower and head back to my room.

[Pomefiore Dorm – Hallway]

Vil: …Whew. I dislike how I can't take my time with my skincare regimen while using a shared washroom.

Vil: It's enough of a struggle just trying to spray my lotion enough across my body. I should head back quickly to finish the rest of my care routine.

[Pomefiore Dorm – Vil's Room]

[door slams, Vil rushes in]

Vil: The sooner I can apply the rest of my skincare after taking a shower, the better my skin will look tomorrow…!

Vil: I took in an abundance of the sun's rays today during flight class, so my top priority would be to mitigate any UV damage!

Vil: I'll apply this beauty cream with a cooling factor thoroughly by hand first… Next comes the face pack.

Vil: The air was rather dry today, so I'll use one with moisturizing cream.

Vil: I need to apply it quickly so as to not let the cream's moisture dry up. Quickly, gently, smoothly… Use a spatula to carefully make everything fall into place…!

Vil: Whew. That should be enough. Now I'll leave it on for 15 minutes…

[sets alarm]

Vil: Now then, time waits for no one. I should finish "this" up while I wait to take off the face pack.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Vil: Improvements, hm… I know I have many things I'd want to ask for. Above all else, I am sorely in need of a shower and washbasin installed in my room.

Vil: I can't say I'm fond of doing only the minimal care I can in that shared space and rushing back to my room to finish everything else.

Vil: I wouldn't even be so egregious as to ask it for every single room. Even if it were only my… the Housewarden's room, that would be enough.

Vil: To be perfectly frank, I would like my own personal ballroom, as well as a heated pool, sauna, and jacuzzi…

Vil: It would be perfect if I could have an oxygen chamber, as well. That is a vital piece of equipment for our dormitory's pursuit of beauty.

Vil: Who knows how seriously that Headmage of ours would be taking the responses to this survey…

Vil: However, nothing will happen if I don't make the request in the first place. "I would like a shower and washbasin in the Housewarden's room."

[alarm beeps]

Vil: Oh, it's time. Time to take off the face pack. I'll soak a cotton ball with the moisturizer, and gently, carefully pull it off… Hum-de-dum♪

Vil: Perfect. I am still so beautiful today. I'll finish with a massage to help with blood circulation.

Vil: Start with the forehead, then around the eyes, nose, mouth and the face line in turn… Gently massage the treatment oil in…

Vil: …That should be it for skincare. Next, I'll focus on each body part individually.

Vil: This body cream doesn't spread very well, does it? I really expected better from this latest product… Well, what a shame.

Vil: ―What a lovely fragrance. This oil can be used for moisturizing both body and hair, I see. It goes on the shelves… Oh, next month. I should make sure to order some in advance.

Vil: …Delicious. Of course, I blended this herbal tea myself, so it's no surprise I like the taste.

Vil: Whew, I'm finally finished with everything. There is simply too much to do after showering...

Vil: However, every little bit of self-care I do lends itself to my growing beauty. I cannot allow myself to go a single day without putting in the effort.

Vil: Now, early to bed is the key. Beauty cannot be made by neglecting good sleep habits.

Vil: I'll just pour some water in the humidifier… And start my sleeping playlist…

Vil: …That was a wonderful effort today. Sleep well, and look to tomorrow.

Vil: Goodnight, me.

[Pomefiore Dorm – Vil's Room]

[alarm rings, turns off]

Vil: Mmm, ah, that was a good night's sleep. I feel completely refreshed both in mind and spirit.

Vil: Ah, I shouldn't dally about. I need to soak a cotton ball with the moisturizer and wipe off the residual skincare products, then…

[takes off cap]

Vil: UV rays may be the antithesis to radiant skin, but there is still a need to soak in some sunlight in order to maintain a healthy appearance.

Vil: All right, time to fully awaken my body. I'll start with stretching my upper body.

Vil: First, bend both elbows and interlock the fingers in front of my chest… Stretch them forward, far away from the body while exhaling.

Vil: One more time, bring the palms back to my chest… Then reach as high up as possible, stretching both the arm and back muscles―

Vil: Whew… In these moments when I can just focus on working my body like this, I can feel just how gradually everything becomes limber.

Vil: Every little bit of effort I can provide for everything under my skin also helps in maintaining my beautiful looks, as well.

Vil: I should wash my face while my circulation finishes warming up.

Vil: Since I don't have a washbasin, I'll fill a bowl with warm water using magic, then lather up a good foam with some facial soap.

Vil: Carefully and gently, so the fine lather stays plump, rest it on the face's T-zone, then spread it to the rest of the face.

Vil: A book I read a while back recommended using cold water when doing this facial, but it didn't suit me well…

Vil: With how my skin looks right now, I think I can get away with not using a hot towel steam face pack today. I'll dive right in to moisturizing…

Vil: Oh, that's right. I should try out the sample skincare booster I received when I last went shopping in Foothill Town.

Vil: Oh, my. This booster has an abundance of reparative ingredients.

Vil: I can see why the sales consultant said it was one of their prime products.

Vil: However… I think this is too much for my taste. It's a shame, but I'll go with my usual one.

Vil: The one I'm currently using isn't anything too high-brand, but it is perfect for my skin especially during a fickle time like spring.

Vil: Of course, I absolutely would be interested in using a more high-quality brand-name skincare product… But this has far more ingredients in it than I would like.

Vil: It could lead to pimples or rashes, so I truly do need to be selective with what I use.

Vil: I should leave the thought of using those highly sought after skincare products for 10 or 20 years down the road.

Vil: I wonder what today's weather looks like…? Oh, clear skies all day. Heh, perhaps the sun is trying to celebrate my birthday, as well?

Vil: It looks like the UV index is fairly high considering the time of year. I should apply a stronger, longer-lasting sunscreen today.

Vil: Alright… This should be good enough.

Vil: Well then, I'll try to bask in some of the sun's rays while jogging…

Vil: Once I finish, I'll take a shower, go through my skincare regimen once more, and then apply my makeup!

Vil: The question then becomes, should I use the special makeup set I received directly from a manufacturer specifically for my birthday, or use the products that I purchased myself?

Vil: There's so many products I want to try; it's a dire shame that I only have one face! I wonder what will suit me best today―

[Main Street]

Deuce: Good morning, Schoenheit-senpai!

Vil: Good morning to you, Deuce. Were you successful in completing my request?

Deuce: Yes, sir! Just as I promised, I'll bring it by your dorm after school. Anyway… Happy Birthday, again!

Vil: Thanks. Do enjoy the party once you've delivered my order.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[dailyadventureprompts]

So I've been reading Triangle Agency...

For those not in the know: Triangle Agency is a new weird/corporate horror TTRPG heavily inspired by things like the X files, Delta Green, and Control. You work as agents for the titular organization which sends you out to stabilize reality by dealing with various paranatural Anomalies.

Don't think of this as a review, until I sit down at a table and play this system over a few sessions I won't be able to tell you how well it actually works. What I can tell you is what the game is trying to accomplish with its storytelling and mechanics, and what it's trying to do is interesting.

Unlike a lot of TTRPGs I've read, triangle agency is not interested in giving you a system that you can use to tell whatever story you want. Instead I can compare it to a tabletop version of a choice heavy videogame like Disco Elysium or Bg3: where engaging with the story/mechanics will lead you to one of the endings the authors prepared for you. This is not to say the system is inflexible, that you can't put your own spin on it, GMs can design missions however they want, and player choice is a major focus, but as long as you're playing the game you're furthering the meta story.

As such, this might be the first game that I'd consider running out of the box with only pre-prepped adventures, which is shocking considering how much of a homebrewer I am. Instead, I'd be interested in putting a group of players in this game and just seeing what it does to them, though it'd have to be a very specific group of players than my regular ol gaming group.

The ideal Triangle Agency player is one that's got a primary focus on storytelling over mechanics, who're interested in making big narrative swings happen as a result of their choices. They also need to be comfortable with improv storytelling, as the primary means of interacting with the game requires a quick " what if" session to justify how you're moulding reality into a new shape:

Where another game might have you roll your character's strength for something as simple as kicking down a locked door, Triangle Agency has your party brainstorming a reason why the door would be weak enough for you to kick down in the first place: IE the building has a termite problem, and the hinges were subject to poor storage conditions by the contractor who installed the door. Then you roll. If you succeed, the door is knocked down, the building has a termite problem and has *always* had a termite problem, and an entire human being, Gary the negligent contractor, has been spoken into existence. You are likely to meet him on your next mission.

In many ways this is explicitly like Blades in the Dark's flashback mechanic, except made an explicit part of the game world. Your characters have the same reality distorting abilities of the Anomalies they're hunting, and they have to be careful lest they delete whole swaths of their life trying to angle for a better roll.

This is where we get into Triangle Agency's focus on character, and the secondary requirement that players be the type to get invested in their eldritch business blorbo as they are subjected to various corporate horrors™. This is a game interested in change whether it manifests as choice, trauma, or metamorphosis, and the ante for these interactions is your player/characters investment in the world. Part of this is with your character's contacts, NPCs who are as essential to an agent's build as their anomalous superpowers or their job with the Agency. To give extra weight to these relationships, each one is portrayed by another player at the table, which I thought was an ingenious way to not only take the burden off the GM, but also to give players more screen time even when their primary agent is off stage.

That leads me to the genius primary progression mechanic: The choice between whether to spend time with your Agent's contacts, focus on their Agency job, or delve into the eldritch truth of their powers, and how to split their finite time off between them. Here we get player choice, story, and mechanics all tied together in a neat little package as progression along any of these tracks unlock new abilities while also revealing more and more of the game's secrets. Possibilities for the game's story open up/are blocked off specifically with how the players choose to personally spend their XP, and if that's not a feat of game design ( or more aptly, craft) I don't know what is.

Final Thoughts: Despite having a delightful time reading the rulebook/optional mission pack (Seriously, the vibes are stellar) I don't know if I'm actually going to get to play Triangle Agency at any point in the near future. I think getting the most out of this game depends so much on finding the right playgroup for it and then pouring in enough time to unlock one of the endings. I'd want to see the mechanism of it's story/mechanics/drama play out, but doing so is one heck of a commitment.

However, if you've got a group full of storytellers that are up for the challenge and you're looking for something substantial to play next, I don't think I could recommend it enough.

I'm also going to be keeping my eyes out for longform actual plays of this one, I'd love to see what a group of performers could do with this.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

The Best Type of Investment

I was tagged by @nine-one-wanton in a last line game and I ended up with a whole ficlet. So enjoy 🤣

****

Buck sighed as he walked toward yet another house. They all sounded good on paper, and this was no exception. Close to the station, two bedrooms, a big backyard, and a large kitchen. Sure, the property was old and things were outdated, but Buck could work with that. As long as the place felt right. As long as it felt like a place he could turn into a home.

His realtor waved to him as they approached the open house, sporting a weary smile that said she was just as tired of this search as he was.

"This is the last one on the list, Buck, unless of course you want to widen the search area or drastically increase your budget," she said with a pointed look.

Buck nodded as they walked inside. The house smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and was thoughtfully staged with neutral decor and strategically placed flowers. It was crowded with other potential buyers, but Buck tried to imagine his furniture in the living room and Jee and Nash running around in the backyard. It wasn't perfect. The closed floor plan felt a bit suffocating, and he hated the popcorn ceiling and god-awful wallpaper. But Buck could make this work.

As he walked through the kitchen, mentally putting in a farmhouse sink and updating the cabinets and backsplash, a voice filled his ears. A voice he knew all too well.

"It can't be," Buck said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I mean, turquoise and gold wallpaper? Who could possibly think that would look good?" the voice said in a familiar, bitchy tone that Buck still found so comforting.

Buck stood frozen in place as the voice got closer, talking about stainless steel appliances and a new kitchen island, before bumping into Buck.

"Oh, excuse me...wait...Evan?" the voice said.

"H-hey, Tommy," Buck stammered.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, clearly surprised.

"I could ask you the same question," Buck said with a nervous laugh. "You already have a beautiful home."

"Right, I do," Tommy said, "but you just moved into Eddie's old place. Is everything okay? I mean, I know everything is far from okay, but..." Tommy trailed off.

"Yeah, well, Eddie's moving back and that place never really felt like home except for..." Buck let the words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Tommy nodded, understanding what Buck wasn't saying. "I was looking for an investment property. I've gotten pretty into home repair and home improvement as a way to pass the time after..." Tommy's voice trailed off.

Buck laughed softly. "Yeah, uh, baking helps with that too."

"I'll have to try that," Tommy said with a small, wistful smile.

"Or," Buck said, his voice dropping lower, "maybe you don't."

Tommy raised his eyebrows cautiously.

"So the way I see it, you're looking to throw yourself into fixing something," Buck said, his heart hammering as he took the leap. "So instead of an investment property... maybe you could invest in us instead?"

Tommy stared at him, not quite letting himself believe what he was hearing.

"Evan," Tommy whispered, his voice barely audible above the chatter of other house hunters.

"It's a little crowded here," Buck said, taking in their surroundings and suddenly feeling very exposed. "Would you maybe want to get a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'd like that," Tommy said, reaching out to squeeze Buck's hand gently before letting go.

Buck's realtor chose that moment to reappear. "There you are, Buck," she said, then looked from Buck to Tommy with curious eyes. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yeah, uh, I gotta go. Can I text you tonight about this?" Buck asked quickly. "Something important has come up."

"Sure, yeah, just let me know if you want to put in an offer," she said, giving them one last curious look before she walked away.

"So, coffee?" Buck asked.

"Coffee," Tommy answered with a smile.

And they linked their fingers and walked toward their future together.

[mspopstar]

Kirby have try cheering Meta Knight up, he's probably down...

KB: "C'mon Meta Knight, you can't just mope around in your pajamas over some mean comment!"

MK: "...But what does that mean for me as a warrior? As a knight, even? If I can't train against one of the most powerful warriors how else will I ever grow and hone my strength? I looked up to him Kirby, he's practically a paragon of power and strength as a knight! For him to abscond from my presence, to actively deny himself the leisure of training with me... What does that speak of on me? Am I as uncouth as the vagabonds he too had to cut down? I understand the folly in my thoughts, and Sir Galacta Knight does deserve time of leisure but to know he has completely forsaken the life of a warrior... It leaves my mood low trodden."

KB: "Come on! So what if yer' idol doesn't want to fight you! There's plenty of other ways to train, ain't there? Can't ya' train with someone else?"

MK: "...Will you train with me?"

KB: "Well..."

KB: "....sure...?"

MK: "You could not even try to sound interested?"

KB: "Awh, geez. It's not that I hate trainin' with you Meta Knight, it's just that..."

MK: "Go on."

KB: "I kinda don't wanna and don't have to. I'm already the strongest so I see no point in needin' to improve my skills anyways. With that in mind, I think ya' should be glad that Galacta doesn't want ta' fight you, right?"

MK: "First off, you being the so-called strongest, so much so that you believe you are above growing, is a gross over-generalization that is tantamount to your ego and immaturity. Secondly there is no positive spi--"

KB: "--Ok, ok, ok, ok! Think about it like this! If you already beat Galacta Knight and you know you can beat him... That technically makes you stronger than him it isn't like yer' going to get any better fighting somethin' weaker than you! So what does it matter, you're better than Galacta an' you don't need to fight he- him! His words? Don't matter! Let it go Meta Knight, it's not that big of a deal y'know?"

MK: "..."

KB: "..."

MK: "...You're right. Yes, I suppose you have a point."

KB: "I do?"

MK: "Yes, you are indeed correct.

KB "...Yay?"

MK: "Tell me Kirby, do you care of how the common ant pleases itself to live? How it moves, what it does?"

KB: "Nn..No? I can't say I have an' I like to watch bugs. In fact, if it weren't for my house bein' so small I'd start a small insect collection. I hate worms but I like butterflies the most, but beetles are good they're pretty tasty to-"

MK: "Quiet with your sickening past time."

MK: "To answer. The reason that you do not care about the life of an ant is because the ant is inferior, an inferior being whom you can easily stomp beneath your boot and ignore."

MK: "It poses no threat, no interference to you because you are stronger than it and are afforded the privilege and indulgence to not care because of that. So, rare as it may be, I will take that indulgence and not care! Why should I? As you have described, and I willfully take on for myself, I shan't give him the time of day and will no longer pester him no longer because I am far superior to him in both strength and intellect.

MK: "I have become superior to him therefore it of no concern of mine to delude and privy myself to the boyish fantasies of rampant idolism. Instead, I shall idolize a person of upper most importance instead. Myself."

MK: "While Galacta Knight chose to grow lazy and untrained, distracted by the delights of the land I will busy myself training, strengthening, and improving more and more until my bones are as strong as steel, muscle denser than stone and blood as thick as mud. Galacta Knight will regret his choice because if we are ever to duel once more our disparities in strength will undoubtably result in his demise."

MK: "That... That is how it should be! The weak should have no right to comment on the ways of a strong warrior such as I! Especially those who used to be strong warriors! Those who improve, and continue to improve are always superior and will supersede the lazy! That's right! That's it!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Well a week or so after I left Sailor Dee said Meta Knight's "gotten his mojo back" so I guess he's doin' alright now."

-Kirby!

[dragon-watcher03]

how would the mk characters (you pick) react if they met a sorcerer reader just like quan chi?

MK Men x Sorcerer! Reader

Note: Results of the pole from a previous post. Reader is known as 'The Ruler of Shadows". Female reader since you didn't specify a gender and I don't really wanna write Gender neutral rn.

Ft. Liu Kang, Raiden, Smoke, Shang Tsung

Liu Kang: The others seem cautious of you.

You: I can't say I blame them.

Liu Kang: Your abilities improve with every fight, Y/n.

You: Does that mean I'm better than that clown?

Liu Kang: You have always contrasted Shang Tsung and Quan Chi in every timeline.

You: I hope to continue that, should there be another timeline after this.

You: Is the whole "sorcerer" thing a turn off?

Liu Kang: When it comes to you? No.

You: Hmph, I'm no stranger to fire.

Liu Kang: The scars across your body tell me so.

You: A sorceress and a God. Sounds...

Liu Kang: Like a recipe for disaster. But with you, it's the good kind.

Raiden: It pains me that others think so lowly of you.

You: huffs I really only care about what you think about me.

Raiden: Madame Bo spoke highly of you.

You: At least someone does...

Raiden: You need not prove yourself to me, I believe your heart is pure as gold.

You: Hm, you are too kind for your own good, Raiden.

You: You ready to get your ass kicked?

Raiden: Please go easy on me... And no tentacles this time.

You: Y'know, I can show you why I'm better than that clown.

Raiden: I don't need to see it to believe it, but please, go ahead.

You: I always liked you more than Kung Lao. That man needs his ego taken down a notch...

Raiden: chuckles I try my best, my Queen.

Smoke: Please tell me you aren't like him...

You: I'm relieved to say I am not.

Smoke: You are a Necromancer, right? Are you able to speak with the dead?

You: Yes, and your mother says she's very proud of you.

Smoke: Are you the fire to my smoke? Cause you're hot.

You: laughs Did Johnny teach you that?

You: This Queen of Shadows could use a King of Smoke.

Smoke: I- uh- clears throat I-I'd be honored...

You: Your skills are awe-inspiring, Tomas. I must say, I am impressed.

Smoke: A-ah, th-thank you, my Queen. God, why must I stutter so much?

You: Why so red, my King? Don't tell me your knees buckle when in my presence~

Smoke: Good lord, you're gonna kill me here.

Shang Tsung: Such potential, all wasted on that bastard...

You: You will not speak of Lord Liu Kang, snake.

Shang Tsung: You'd look so pretty at my side, dearest~

You: Tch, your charm had no effect on me!

Shang Tsung: I will have you one day, my pretty little sorceress.

You: Ugh, I'd rather deal with Cage than you.

You: You are lucky I don't strike you down where you stand...

Shang Tsung: Oh I do welcome the challange~

You: Your flirting is worse than Johnny's.

Shang Tsung: Ouch, playing dirty are we?

You: If you weren't such a prick, I'd actually consider it.

Shang Tsung: I take it you don't make exceptions?

[venigni]

Markiona

Ok so...NOT posting the vid bc I'm genuinely ashamed of my performance. Thought I would have fun posting those but nah. Next playthrough, for sure, though.

THOUGHTS BELOW THE CUT (spoilers, obv)

I want to preface this by saying I am not trying to gatekeep & I genuinely do not Give A Fuck what difficulty you play at, if you use specter, throwables, etc. At the end of the day, Lies of P is a video game and it should be FUN. So play however you find FUN.

That being said, I had to drop down the difficulty for her due to time, trying to get thru the story asap so to not get spoiled, and just needing to know wtf happens, but playing her at the lower difficulty was NOT fun for me. I get very little enjoyment out of it tbh. I want to be sweating and screaming and shaking as I play. Like, that's fun to me. And I feel really sad about it but I will get over it tomorrow, probably. I just don't want ppl to think I care about that, like u do u, just for me, I'm disappointed in myself, is all. (Again I'll get over it).

I honestly haven't been reading reviews/etc. as I'm trying to avoid all spoilers, so I only know what y'all tell me in the comments. I did find out via YouTube watching Markiona vids that game difficulty scales based on your NGs so I'm really curious to see how it is on other files eventually. My PC file is only on NG+ so it should be a little easier there for me, maybe?

Up until this point I honestly didn't feel like the game was too hard. Actually it was really fun and I liked the challenge the alligator gave me, even if I ended up cheesing him (which in itself was fun). Honestly, Markiona wasn't even like...HARD it's just. IDK if it's just my build (I tried some other ones but was struggling to adapt to diff stats), but even my heaviest hits were just the tiniest light taps to her health bar. She just felt. Like. A fucking. Sponge. I didn't like that. Is this our punishment for all the people who complained about LoP bosses always having two health bars? Just make one deplete at half the rate? Slkjfslkjfslj

I enjoyed the aesthetic, all the mechanics. It seemed pointless to learn perfect blocks in this fight so I mostly dodged, which I'm not used to doing. Maybe that's why this one had a bit more of a learning curve for me? But not too bad in the end.

What I really struggled with is the speed. This is where dropping down a difficulty level really helped. In LS, there was just...no time. For anything between attacks. Gap closing, charged attacks, Legion, it was really, really difficult, and I kept animation locking myself and then I'd get blown up. That was my #1 weakness. It improved when I learned their tells, but it was still really fucking difficult with my strat.

Which was: Using Falcon Eye to yeet the puppet to have a chance to get Markiona. Doing that twice, plus chipping away at her throughout the fight, you eventually win. But it's easier said than done bc in her second half she really goes bananas with her melee attacks, and it's harder to focus on the puppet...

I think one of my issues was trying to use the bow. Like, it really doesn't do much damage, but I tried several times to use close range melee weapons and I just. Couldn't make prog with those. There was too much going on at that range.

I really like the idea of a duo fight and the animations were all really gorgeous. I loved how the puppet moved and fought. Dodging all of her attacks was really satisfying. I think she was more of a standout than Markiona herself who I just thought was kind of annoying with her blue balls......

Anyway, even though I'm sad about how it ended, esp after how much time I poured into it, it actually isn't so bad, you just really, really need to endure and that's one of my weak spots (esp since I can't hold the controller for long) so I kept getting inpatient (and animation locking myself thus getting blown into oblivion).

Curious to hear all of your thoughts, so please don't hesitate to reply / reblog with them!!! Sorry this was long. 💔

[directdogman]

Hi I just wanted to say that you have inspired me a lot.

I have always wanted to write stories for a while now, I have big dreams and I hope to one day accomplish them.

Dsaf originally inspired my first oc, which to be fair I did just steal from dsaf (don't worry they are different now) it also inspired my Phone headed sona.

Your games, dsaf and dialtown are an inspiration for me, and I also was wondering if you have any advice for someone trying to write a massive project.

Sorry if I bothered you with this, have a nice day or night dogman

Ayyy, glad to hear my writing's inspired you!

To be frank, I mightn't be the best person to take writing advice from. I'm still a student in the grand scheme of things and any lesson I teach you would likely make you more like me as a writer, when you should always wanna aim past me! You should never settle for being as good as me when you can be so much better!

The only surefire creative advice I can give that might be useful to you now, which I know works because every successful artist I know has learned it, is to start small. However small you're thinking of right now, half it. Then half it again. Then half it AGAIN, and so on. Your first project should, if anything, just be a single scene. I know that might seem small, but trust me, that's always how it starts. When you're confident you've gotten the scene where you need it, then you work up from there, a few scenes, to a few more scenes, to a small game. It's better too if you don't just keep adding to the same game and start over each time for a reason I'll elaborate on now.

If you try to make a single project that's as large as the ones that inspired you, you will have a truly frustrating time. Aside from the fact that it's very difficult to organize a large project before you learn the skills that you'll pick up gradually as you make smaller projects, you also improve a lot as you start out. It's very common, especially at the very beginning of your journey, to constantly revise and remake your work as you go because every now and then, you'll improve so much that everything at the beginning is noticeably worse than what comes after.

This happens to all developers, to be clear, even ones with years of experience under their belts. It's the reason Fez took years to get out, by the developer's own admission. If your project takes a few days or even a week to make, you only have a small length of time to get better and want to scrap everything. Getting something, anything out there, getting feedback, being able to reflect on a finished product is an essential part of your creative journey and I know many developers who are more talented than me who've never gotten that far due to their tendency to set targets for themselves that they can't hit yet.

This lesson took me a much longer time for me to learn than I'd like to admit. I have about 4 long-term projects that never saw the light of day that I worked on for most of my teenage years (which I could make now), but couldn't then. If I'd made smaller projects during that time and honed specific skills, I'd likely be even better than I am now!

You'll get there if you stick with it. Learning any creative skill from scratch is an incredibly frustrating and at times, completely disheartening process. You'd be surprised how many times I almost quit doing this. But, nothing good's ever truly easy. Start tiny, work your way up! Through self reflection, feedback, added experience, you'll figure out your own style, your own workflow. And then... I am TOAST. Best of luck!

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Parental Negotiations

Feyd x reader

Pregnancy, canon typical violence suggested, etc. Feyd is Lowkey his own warning.

Feyd's brown wrinkled as he narrowed his eyes. "None?"

I tensed, anticipating a fight. Feyd had the energy to argue all day if he cared enough about the topic, and for better or worse our future children were an important topic to him. But at seven months pregnant, I had no desire to do such a feat. Once upon a time I would have loved to have verbally sparred with him over the course of several hours, riling him up until he was ready to throw me into our bed. None of that sounded appealing these days. I'd rather the two of us spend our evening quietly, holding each other, watching some documentary or education text until I fell asleep. Is this how old people felt?

Feyd and I were both barely in our early twenties, but this pregnancy feels like it had aged me in an unexpected way. Or maybe I was just tired. That could be it.

I sighed, sitting down on the couch that took up a large space in my living quarters. Feyd had his own rooms of course, but he spent most of his time in mine. It would be smothering if I didn't like him so much. "I don't want to use a wet nurse when the baby is born. I want to feed my child from my own breast. And I don't really want to use nursemaids either, I'd prefer to raise my own child."

Feyd was quiet for a moment, his eyes staring me down like he was trying to determine just how serious I was about this issue. When he did speak, his raspy voice was gentler than usual. "You're the Na Baroness. You'll be the Baroness one day. You have obligations beyond being a wife and mother."

"I know, and I'm not going to neglect those duties. I think I'll take one or two months to rest with the baby, and after that, I'll see how much I can get done with them on my hip." I explained. "I'm open to using a part time nursemaid, sparingly. So I can have someone hold the baby while I shower, and other such needs."

"And if you can't manage to meet your duties with our child strapped to your chest?" Feyd pressed calmly.

"Then I'll be open to using a nursemaid. Sparingly, of course." I said firmly. "Some weight could be lifted if you assisted me, you know. I don't expect you to drop everything to help me, but watching them for a few hours while I get my duties done would help a lot."

Feyd looked bewildered. "When am I supposed to find the time to do that?!"

I chuckled. "You could strap him to your chest while you do your morning run." I suggested.

"What's wrong with using the nursemaid?" Feyd probed again. "They'll be properly vetted I assure you. And the royal guard will never be far."

"Listen, I know most nobles think that seeing their child once a day for afternoon tea is being an involved parent, but I disagree." I said firmly. "I'm not going to carry this baby for nine months, go through hours of labor, love them more than I ever thought I could love anyone, and then just hand him off to a stranger to raise. I want to be the one to teach him to talk, and walk, and play with him. I know the sleepless nights when he's sick or having a tantrum will be difficult at best, but I want those hard times. I want… I want to actually be a mother."

Feyd's eyes glazed over, my words still registering as he remembered something. Some far off memory that I would likely never be privy to. He hadn't ever spoken much about either of his parents, but he avoided the topic of his mother like a snake avoiding a hawk. Perhaps there was some dusty memory in the corners of his mind of a mother that soothed his fevers, kissed his scraped up knees, and sang his nightmares away with lullabies.

"Alright." He said, a firmness in his voice that assured dependableness and security. "No wet nurses. And I'll only have two nursemaids hired, both part time."

Two nursemaids was a great improvement over the seven that the Baron had told you to expect. Seven nursemaids to attend to the future of House Harkonnen. And three wetnurses. How much could one baby eat? Perhaps the Baron expected Feyd's child to have an appetite to match his.

I smiled, leaning over and kissing Feyd's cheek. "Thank you, love. This means a lot to me."

"If you neglect your duties, I won't be able to prevent more nursemaids being hired." Feyd warned. "And if you're unable to care for our child sufficiently, I will insist on the nursemaids stepping in more."

"I understand." I said gently, resting a hand on his arm. "I just want… when our child wakes up from a nightmare, I want them to call out for me, not a nanny."

Feyd's eyes softened. He rested his hand on my belly, rubbing little circles over where our baby rested inside me. "I will never truly understand motherhood, or your desire for it. But this is important for you, so it's important to me. And… I do admit to wanting something similar."

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

"When I was a boy, I used to go to my combat instructors when I had an injury or needed advice." Feyd explains. "I was wondering the other day about which instructors I should pick for my child, and I realized… I wanted to be the one to teach them. I wanted to be the one to bandage his cuts, and correct his stance. Not some retired general I select to train him for me."

I leaned into Feyd, gasping a little as our baby moved inside me, kicking right where Feyd's hand rested. "Oh! Ugh… they're getting stronger. That one hurt a bit."

Feyd chuckled, rubbing the little outline of our baby's foot. "A strong kick. Good, they'll need that."

"I think you'll be a good father." I said, images of Feyd instructing our child, a toddler in my fantasy, on how to throw their first punch. "Just remember, little hearts need a soft touch, not just a firm hand."

Feyd's lips pressed against my forehead as our child gave another kick. Lighter this time, thankfully. "I'll try to remember that."

[panelshowsource]

i have a lot of episode requests i'm working on so i'll make another post with those shortly!

———

this is such a fun question — i wish i had an answer! most of my "conspiracy theories" have more to do with certain comedians being misunderstood (in both good and bad ways), as people tend to want to like who they like and hate who they hate out of selfishness that is somewhat at odds with reality. at times. like, for example, not a lot of people want to talk about how many comedians actually didn't like sean lock at all in the early 00s because of how cutthroat and competitive he was on panel shows (mock the week flashbacks, anyone?); we don't enjoy thinking about that because, as fans, we all like sean and think he was a hilarious, honest, decent person. i could talk more about this but tbh defending someone i think people misunderstand or tearing down someone people love is kinda...not the kind of discourse i'm trying to do on this website 😅 anyways, that's where most of my theories lie (that and dating theories? maybe?), but that's not enough to call them conspiracy theories ig? this isn't a conspiracy theory, right? because i so passionately believe everything i said there hahahaha

do you have any you'd share? 👀🌀

i think argumental is probably the most underrated to me, because as much as...no one...talks about shows like duck quacks don't echo and rhod gilbert's growing pains, they've had enough high-profile or just popular-within-britcom guests that people have checked them out even for just one specific episode. but i feel like no one has watched argumental!!!!!!! which, i get it, it's a lot of straight white guys standing around doing fake mainsplaining lol (please remember that before, like, 5 years ago, that's about all panel shows were) but i think the premise of impromptu debate is really funny, some of the formats really bamboozle the debaters which leads to funny banter and improv, and it was so fun to see sean lock in menace mode as host 😋

i can't say it's the best ever made or anything — because, like series like there's something about movies (jennifer saunders i love you!!!!), rob beckett's smart tv, etc it's just two opposite panels answering kinda boring questions — but if you love david tennant and i know you do because everyone rightly does then you should try comedy world cup! he's such a wonderful host and there are a lot of panel show faves as guests

and on the topic of meh-to-decent formats with A+ hosts and big name panels, have you ever tried was it something i said or insert name here? they each have their moments for sure, i think a lot of people wanted to see wisis come back (maybe we're all just obsessed with david 🤷‍♀️)

you MUST listen to the unbelievable truth if you haven't, it's such a stellar radio show

another required panel experience is the recent series guy mont spelling bee and i'm holding a gun to your head when i say this watch it and watch it right now

as many of you know i'm not a fan of a league of their own but the road trip series are def some of the better episodes so if you like the panelists you can check that out for sure

does that help a little? tbh most of what i WANT to recommend isn't panel shows but scripted series or tangential reality shows (like travel man), but you asked about panel shows specifically so i stuck with them!

i haven't, and i surprise myself because lily savage was so iconic and i am sure i scrolled past her era a bunch of times back in the day. i'd give it a try if an episode had the right amalgamation of guests, so i'll check it out!!

omg there are so many moments from so many series — and i added quite a few to these random panel shows moments posts i did last year so i'll try not to repeat myself — but let me rack my brain real quick...

as i always say THIS is my favourite wilty clip ever and i stand by that

david the tortoise

yoshi the actual tortoise

"if this turns out to be a lie you are a shamless little light entertainer"

tell 'em david!! cuz she really does have horrible views lol

the elephant :/

for the last six months i've been secretly liasing with david's wife behind his bak

obviously the horse story

omg and the THERE'S NOOOOOO UNIVERSITY story

and on the topic of classics this was always my bob mortimer fave maybe because of the genuine awe of the panel in the end lol

and on the topic of genuine awe definitely this one

this miles jupp car crash

bermuda

i love rhod's potato tattoo and it's so funny that denise is like 'why have you got that??' so sincerely she was so astounded lmaooo

i was genuinely invited to harry and megan's wedding today but i said no because i had to come here and do this

i once shared a tent in kent with susie dent

another recent fave is this adorable one<3

oh man anon there are soooo many more maybe i can work on a masterpost of both funny moments funny whole lies/truths, or a youtube video or something (i said i'd get back into making videos). did i mention even one of your faves?? hehehe

omg anon you must watch this if you haven't the ben whishaw obsession is NOT a drill

he also talks about it in his book!

god he's so relatable

OMG I DID the nostalgia...

the way they didn't want to just talk about popworld but they didn't go one whole minute without saying popworld hahahaha they're soooooo cute

richard the popworld horse mentioned!!!!!!!

miquita being a whole child when she got cast for popworld, like it's so wild to think about

"has it been clear from what we've discussed that i'm a reclusive genius and master of cinema?" + "we pretended to be pretentious directors in berets...and i have become that guy now"

i know they were 98% kidding but the 2% of them that would go through with the popworld baby?? CAN YOU IMAGINE

you can't be surprised that a guy who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy for a living enjoyed a film about a man who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy!

a friend of mine gifted me a while of nordvpn, so that's what i've been using lately, but it depends what you need a vpn for. for example, if you're torrenting and need to seed content (for ratios or whatever), you'll need something with port forwarding like airvpn. if you're just trying to find something to switch between countries' netflixes or abuse streaming services, surfshark is very popular but i'd say expressvpn comes more highly recommended. once you pick the vpn you'd like to use, it's easy to find tutorials on youtube!

aww you're too kind 🥹🫂

———

☆ FAQ ➜ PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS • NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS ♥ https://ko-fi.com/panelshowsource

[bigball-thefrog]

hey there! once again wishing you good luck on those exams! but i was wondering if maybe you could write something for law?

i was thinking maybe that Law and the reader had met awhile back on the readers island and she like saved him from something when he was a rookie. then obviously she joins his crew and stuff but then one day an incident happens that causes the reader to die and Law is devastated as the years go by

But here’s the twist!☝🏻The reader didn’t actually die but instead she survived and the Strawhats found her wondering around and took her in🙏🏻So know she’s a member of the strawhats, then Law meets her again in Punk Hazard.

The rest is up to you! I just kinda want it to be angsty and heartbreaking when Law meets the reader again like maybe I don’t know she fell for someone else…(if you can…can you make the reader nerdy bc i’m a nerd🧍🏻‍♀️)

Helloooo!!! I'm back and I've finished your request, I hope you like it. I know I said I'd post a few yesterday but I got tired. But I'll try and post than just this today because I've got quite a bit planned. But for now, enjoy more Law suffering

Warnings/Tags:

Female reader

Law can't be happy for a goddam minute before it all goes to shit

______________________________

Narrator POV

You lived a peaceful life in a small village by the sea. Nothing much ever happened until one day you were collecting seaweed when you saw a man about your age wash up on the beach with a polar bear. The Polar begged you for help and you took them both in.

When the man woke up, he thanked you and introduced himself as Law, a rookie pirate, and the Polar bear was his right hand man, Bepo. They stayed with you for awhile and grew kinda close, you knew a lot about botany which and medicine which was good for Law, to help him heal and to improve his skills as a doctor, you both also got along with your shared love the comic, Sora, Warrior of the Sea. When it was time for Law to leave, he invited you to come with, and he accepted, making you the botanist/herbalist of the heart pirates. You grew closer as the days went by, you knew that law was mostly closed off from showing much emotion but you were starting to break down that cold wall around his heart, getting closer than most, even starting to get almost, intimate, with him. But it didn't last long...

At the events of Sabaody, you and the rest of the crew were fighting against the Pacifistas and were struggling to get away, Law was distracted trying to save everyone he didn't even notice he was being aimed at. As it fired, you managed to push Law out the way, causing you to he blasted instead. You went flying from the blast and Law was too slow reach you. He wanted to run after you but he was quickly picked up by Bepo as he ran with him. He struggled but it was no point. Once the fight was over and the marines were gone, Law and the rest of the crew spent all of their time, searching for you and where you went, only leaving when the events of Marineford happened. But you were nowhere to be found... You were gone... Another person, close to Law.. Gone...

--------------------------------------------------

Two years later at Punk Hazzard, Law had just allied with the Strawhats and was following Luffy back to their current hideout so he could swap back the bodies of the crew he changed.

He walked in, first noticed the giant children, then the crew, then... You...? No, it couldn't be, you were dead, you were killed in Sabaody and Law couldn't find your body! How, how were you here?! Why were you here, why didn't you come back to him?! Law stood frozen and it was only when Nami shouted at him to change her back that he snapped out of his thoughts and changed them back, but right after he ignored everyone else and walked right up to you. "Oi..." He called out as he stood right in front of you. You looked up at him, confused but smiled, "Oh, hello. Are you a friend of Luffy's?" "Stop the act, you know who I am.." "No, I don't... Have we met before?" dammit, why were you acting like this?! Of course you two had met before! "Yeah, I'm your captain remember?" you shook your head, "No you're not, Luffy's my captain, I only just joined recently at Sabaody"

Sabaody?! How?? He searched every inch of that island for you!! "Cut the bullshit! You're not apart of the Strawhats! You're apart of my crew! You were a botanist/herbalist that helped me make medicine on my ship! The Polar Tang, remember?!" Law shouted out, you looked at him sympathetically, "I'm sorry but I don't remember... I don't remember much before waking up on Sabaody..." Law clenched his fists, you must've lost your memories when you got blasted by the Pacifistas... And now you don't remember him at all...

Defeated, Law just sat next to you, "Sorry, you just reminded me of an old friend... That I lost two years ago..." "Oh... I'm so sorry..." you frowned and moved a little closer to him, "It's fine... I just miss them a lot, and you look identical to them.." Law mumbled. You both went into a comfortable silence until Law decided to still check up on you despite you not remembering him, "So, how have the Strawhats been treating you?" He asked. He listened to you as you began rambling about all the stuff you've done with them already, you were still making medicine and growing your plants, you assisted Chopper now with the medical filed, but what hurt the most was when you mentioned that you had tarted growing feelings for Zoro. Now that was a punch in the gut, all the close, intimate, personal moments that you shared with Law, gone. Now all your feelings dedicated to the swordsman...

He went quiet again and when you noticed this and tried to apologize but he just looked away, how could he even look at you now that you remember nothing and he remembered everything... You were gone, the person he had grown to love, care for and let down his walls for, was gone... You looked genuinely upset, nit understanding what he was thinking or going through so you just looked down with a frown on your face. When Law glanced back and saw your frown his heart clenched. He hated seeing you frown and be hated being the reason for that frown even more. Maybe, this was for the best? Maybe you were better with the Strawhats, but dammit it hurt so much to think about you not being with him anymore.. But now with the alliance, he could see you for a little longer.. Maybe, he could get ode to you again and maybe something in you would snap and you'd remember... With a deep exhale he turned back to face you and spoke about the first thing you two bonded over, "So... You like Sora, Warrior of the Sea?"

______________________________

Alright, so for tonight, I've got a part 2 of I request I did, then I've just gotten a new request to do, then I'll be posting a poll with three of my ideas that I'll let you all pick the order of which I post them in. I'll see you all real soon.

Kelly🐸

[hyzelle]

ch. 1 — even if it’s not with me | l.hs

♡ pairing: heeseung x make-up artist!fem!reader

♡ genre/tags: fluff, crack, pet names, slow burn, reader & all members are in their early to mid 20s

♡ warnings: profanities

♡ featuring: ot7 enha

est. 19/03/2025 — chapter 1 wc ꒰ 1.5k ꒱

[+♡] a/n — as i've mentioned on the main post for EIINWM — i decided to rewrite the whole thing because i didn't like how it was written. and so, the previous posts have been removed. here's the new & improved version!! hope u’ll still love reading it as much as i love writing it. read the synopsis & keep up with updates here, ♡ EIINWM ♡. chapters are proofread to the best of my ability, so there might still be some mistakes. feedbacks are always welcomed, but any & all hates or disrespect will not be tolerated and you will be blocked. on that note, i hope u'll enjoy & love EIINWM ♡ ! give it some love, like & reblog. ♡

Y/N wasn't antisocial—she was selectively social.

She liked people just fine. She just liked them better in small doses.

Maybe it was the unnecessary drama, the passive-aggressive group chats, or the inevitable falling-outs over something stupid, but she'd been through enough to know that friendships? Exhausting. So, at some point, she'd just... stopped trying.

She had Jake, she had her work, and that was enough.

Or so she thought—because according to Jake, she had no life.

"Y/N, I love you, but you have no life," Jake announced, sprawled across her couch as he scrolled through his phone.

Y/N, lying on the floor because she was too tired to move, groaned. "I have a great life, actually. I work, I eat, I sleep. It's called balance."

"It's called boring," Jake deadpanned, throwing a pillow at her face. "Which is why I'm forcing you to meet my friends tonight."

Y/N peeked out from under the pillow. "Absolutely not."

Jake sat up, leveling her with a look. "You can't just spend your twenties working and rotting in bed, Y/N. You need friends. Real people."

"I have friends."

"Friend. A friend," Jake shot back. "I'm not counted."

Y/N groaned again. He wasn't going to let this go. He never let anything go.

"I'm just saying," Jake continued, flopping onto his stomach, "maybe you should meet people who actually make life fun. People who won't bring you bullshit or backstabbing drama. People who, I don't know, actually like you."

Y/N sighed, knowing she was this close to caving. "And you're sure these friends of yours aren't idiots?"

"Oh, they're absolute idiots," Jake said, grinning. "But they're your kind of idiots. You'll love them. Give it five minutes."

She exhaled heavily. "You're really not going to let me stay home, are you?"

Jake beamed. "Not a fucking chance."

Y/N sighed, pressing her palms against her face before grumbling, "Fine."

Jake whooped, jumping up from the couch. "I promise you won't regret it."

Y/N wasn't so sure about that.

Ikeu: tmr. 8pm. don't be late

Y/N: where am i going exactly?

Ikeu: avenue cafe, big booth in the back

Y/N: ok but like what if i don't show up

Ikeu: i will literally drag u here

Y/N: bold of u to assume i'd answer the door

Ikeu: bold of YOU to assume i wouldn't break in

Y/N: fair point

Ikeu: i know. wear something cute.

Y/N: ??????

Ikeu: nvm u always look cute ;)

Y/N: shut up

The Avenue Café was warm, dimly lit, and humming with the low buzz of conversation.

Y/N spotted Jake immediately—sprawled in the back booth, waving her down.

Then, as if sensing her hesitation, her phone buzzed.

Ikeu: i see u. don't even THINK about it.

Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose, rolling her eyes as she made her way over.

Jake grinned. "And there she is."

All six heads turned toward her. Y/N resisted the urge to kill Jake on sight.

"Be cool," Jake muttered under his breath, though it was mostly directed at his friends.

Y/N slid into the booth, offering a polite smile. "Hey."

She expected an awkward, stiff round of introductions.

Instead, Sunoo, the one with the sharpest outfit and perfectly styled hair, squinted at her like he was solving a complex equation. "Wait. How are you this pretty and friends with Jake?"

Y/N smirked, amused by him already. "A moment of weakness, clearly."

Sunghoon, who was annoyingly handsome in that effortlessly cool, probably too good at everything way, choked on his drink. "Nice, I like her already."

Jake groaned. "Can we introduce ourselves before you guys scare her off?"

The first to speak was Jay, who looked exactly like the kind of man who had his life together—sharp jawline, expensive watch, the type to argue about dividends over dinner. He smirked at her before introducing himself, "Jay. Finance."

Of course.

Then came Sunghoon, sharp-jawed and deadpan smooth. "Sunghoon. Skating coach. The best-looking one here."

"Debatable," Sunoo cut in smoothly. "Anyway—Sunoo. Fashion stylist. "

"Jungwon," the next one said, voice steady, presence calm, like he was the designated driver in this friend group. His dimple deepened as he smiled. "Dancer and choreographer."

Then came the youngest-looking one, who had troublemaker energy written all over him.

"Niki. Model. I work with my face."

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "That's gotta be exhausting."

"It is," Niki sighed dramatically.

And then, "Heeseung."

Her gaze flickered to the last one, seated at the far end of the booth.

Damn.

Tall. Sharp features. Stupidly good-looking.

But it wasn't just that.

It was the way he carried himself—quiet but not timid, observant but unreadable. He wasn't trying to grab attention, yet he held it effortlessly.

"Musician," he added, voice smooth but lowkey disinterested, like he wasn't used to introducing himself to people who didn't already know him.

Y/N tilted her head slightly. "Singer? Instrumentalist?"

Heeseung's lips barely curved. "Bit of everything."

Jay scoffed. "He's being modest. He's annoyingly good at all of it."

Heeseung just smirked, like he knew it was true but didn't feel the need to confirm it.

Something about him intrigued her.

Heeseung wasn't expecting this.

Jake had been talking about her for weeks, but Heeseung had tuned most of it out—figuring she was just another one of Jake's many social connections.

But Y/N? She was different.

She wasn't loud like Jake, but she wasn't reserved either. She had this effortless confidence, the kind that didn't try too hard but still left an impression.

And she was beautiful.

Not just in the obvious way—though, yeah, that too—but in the way she carried herself. The way she didn't hesitate to throw Jake's bullshit back at him.

Heeseung, who usually kept his thoughts to himself, found himself watching her more than he should.

And the problem was, every time she glanced his way, his first instinct was to look away.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter filling the cozy café as the group bounced between topics.

At one point, Sunghoon leaned back, stirring his drink as he turned to Y/N. "So, Y/N, what do you do?"

Y/N raised a brow. "What, Jake didn't tell you?"

Jay smirked. "He did. Just wanted to hear it from you."

The way he said it—smooth, teasing, with just the right amount of curiosity—made it obvious he was flirting.

Y/N played along. "Well, I'm a makeup artist."

Heeseung, who had been mostly quiet, finally spoke. "So, do you mostly do editorial work, or—?"

Y/N turned her head toward him, a little surprised.

He had been listening?

She expected him to be the type who half-tuned out of conversations that didn't interest him—but his gaze was focused now, waiting for her answer.

"I do a bit of everything," she admitted. "Editorials, weddings, some celebrity gigs."

Heeseung nodded, clearly intrigued. "That's impressive."

Y/N raised a brow. "Coming from someone who, apparently, can write, produce, and perform—I'd say you're more impressive."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Heeseung's lips.

"She's got a point," Jay said.

Sunoo sighed dramatically. "And yet, he refuses to use that talent to get us into exclusive events."

"Because that's not how it works," Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip of his drink.

Sunghoon scoffed. "Says who?"

"Basic human decency?" Heeseung offered dryly.

Jungwon leaned back, amused. "Imagine having that much talent and still acting humble."

Jake nudged Y/N. "He pretends he doesn't care, but deep down, he loves it when people hype him up."

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but he didn't deny it.

Y/N, watching him, found herself curious.

The way he spoke—calm, measured, like he was always thinking before he talked—was completely different from Jake's carefree chaos. And yet, it wasn't like he was shy.

He observed more than he spoke. But when he did talk, his words carried weight.

Something about that made him... intriguing.

And maybe, a little attractive.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, the group's energy addictive in the way that made Y/N forget she'd only met them an hour ago. They were sharp, fast-paced, and unfiltered, the kind of people who made everything feel like an inside joke you wanted to be part of.

"Oh yeah—we still on for the beach next weekend?" Jay suddenly asked.

Sunghoon nodded. "Yeah. We were supposed to go last week, but Niki—"

"I was sick." Niki interrupted immediately.

Sunghoon gave him a look. "Yeah. You got food poisoning because you thought it'd be a good idea to eat a gas station sushi burrito at two in the morning."

Niki scoffed. "Okay, first of all? I was hungry. Second of all, it was half off."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Yeah okay, anyway—beach day, next weekend? Thought it'd be good to just relax, get some drinks, maybe play a game or two."

Jake, as if just remembering, turned to Y/N. "Wait. You should come."

Y/N blinked. "Me?"

"Oh yeah," Sunoo agreed immediately. "You should come."

She raised an eyebrow. "And why exactly would I do that?"

"Consider it your initiation," Jungwon replied, smirking.

Y/N took a slow sip of her drink. "And what exactly am I being initiated into?"

"The best decision of your life," Niki grinned.

Jake leaned back, grinning. "I mean... you did say you needed to have more of a life."

Y/N shot him a pointed look. "I never said that."

Jake smirked. "I implied it for you."

She exhaled, considering it. "... What's in it for me?"

Jay, amused, answered first. "A good time."

Niki smirked. "The privilege of seeing us shirtless."

Y/N scoffed. "Tempting."

And then, before anyone else could speak, Heeseung chimed in.

"You should come." His voice was low, even, like he wasn't trying to convince her—just stating a fact.

Y/N turned her head, catching his gaze. He didn't look away this time.

"... Fine," she said, feigning reluctance. "I'll come."

Sunoo cheered. "That's the spirit."

A second later, her phone buzzed with a notification.

Ikeu added you to OnlyFriends

She stared at the screen for a second before letting out a short laugh. Shaking her head, she smiled as she typed,

Y/N: hi losers

This might actually be fun.

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©enhyzelle 2025. all rights reserved i am protected by copyright i do not give permission to translate or repost my works.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

So, I have a lot of Vil fanfics in the works, right? So much so that the Rook x Reader fanfic I was writing turned into a Vil one. Honestly, it was frustrating. However, it got me thinking about why I like writing for Vil. I thought I'd explain.

Vil is like my Epel. Vil wants to see Epel improve, and I want to see Vil improve. He has so much potential, but it's going to waste! It's ridiculous. Pomefiore is about bettering yourself. He should follow his dorm's code of conduct by focusing on communication skills.

Another thing I like about Vil is he'd be less resistant than Epel. In Chapter 5, Epel has a big inferiority complex surrounding his masculinity. Because of that, he's resistant to Vil's suggestions. On the other hand, Vil values improving oneself above all. In Chapter 6, Vil told Idia that even if there's a 1% chance that something will work, you should go for it. You can say you tried by the end. If you didn't, you wouldn't know if it worked. (I could be totally wrong about that quote, so please correct me if I am.) That's Vil's mindset. He's willing to try different things if it will help improve himself. That's an attractive quality. It's refreshing to write someone so willing to better themselves. In my fanfics, I like to bring out that latent potential.

Another reason I think he would be willing is because nobody calls him out in Chapter 5. At least not in a way that he’s receptive to. Deuce semi-calls him out after Epel runs out. However, Ace sides with Vil. It pushes Deuce to become reactive. Vil is a logical person. He tends to write off other's emotions, especially during Chapter 5. In that chapter, Vil is a master at rationalizing his behavior towards others. He's intimidating and confident. He uses logic to override, demean, and invalidate other's emotions. It's an awful and effective way to shut up an opposing party. Vil portrays himself as always being right. It seems like he's infallible. He can't be swayed or wrong, so people don't challenge him. He'll shred them with his logic. For others, it's not worth the effort. He displays a lot of toxic narcissistic behaviors in the chapter. It makes you wonder if you're crazy for feeling such emotions because he seems so self-assured. It's classic gaslighting. He sucks in that chapter. Vil becomes much better and more considerate in the later chapters, though. It's endearing watching him care about his Pomefiore group so much. He came a long way from being self-absorbed to valuing his friendships. It's part of why I love him. He's the only person to overblot that apologizes and compensates the victims. Despite his progress, he still has ways to improve. That's what I like to do in my fanfics.

Let's also talk about Vil's communication style, because that's the main aspect he should improve. In Chapter 5, Vil is overly harsh because he's stressed. He reverts to what he knows best. His behavior comes from the environment he was in as a child. The entertainment industry is brutal and unkind. Based on his communication style, it's clear he received that kind of treatment. I imagine there's also a level of "I had to go through all that criticism and pain. If I could put up with it, you can too." That's why he's so quick to give a harsh sentence. It's not healthy. However, that's what he experienced the most. Although his dad loves and cares about him (i'm like 90% sure. i haven't read that event, but he seems like the type lol), I don't think he shielded Vil a lot from the abusive aspects. It's clear by how callous Vil can be. I don't blame or fault Vil's dad for this, either. The entertainment industry's toxic behavior bleeds everywhere. There's only so much a parent can do to shield their kid. Besides, the important part is what happens after the trauma. Vil has a good and loving relationship with his dad. That's what's important.

So, in Chapter 5, Vil is fully absorbed in himself and his problems. He's not thinking about other people. He doesn't care about how they feel. The only way to snap him out of this state is to appeal to his desires. I won't tell you the different ways to do this because that's in my fanfics, but that's the basic way to get Vil to listen in stressful situations.

I also connect with his character a lot. A theater kid who has unrealistic and high expectations of themselves. Someone who's exhausted but continues pushing themself to the brink because they won't be enough otherwise. A person prone to burnout but doesn't have time for it. They have to keep changing and improving themselves to remain relevant and important. Someone with such a packed schedule they don't have time for friends outside of their activities. A person who's supposed to be strong, so whenever a problem happens, they try to solve it themself. It often goes awry, but sometimes it works. Either way, it's traumatic. I see a lot of myself in Vil. At least I did.

I became a better person after I left the environment that pushed me to act that way. I learned to slow down and realize I am enough by being myself. It's ok to go at my own pace when learning things. I don't have to be perfect or the best to be important and loved. I can have fun with friends outside of the activities I do. It's ok to have fun and relax around other people. I don't have to be perfect all the time. I discovered I like writing more than acting. However, I still love the performing arts. It's always been one of my outlets. It was why I was able to handle my childhood. Through all of this self-improvement, I became a better person. I was able to overcome some of my self-destructive and unhelpful behaviors. Obviously, I still struggle with some of these aspects, but I have the help I need. I have a good support system (like Vil gets after Chapter 5).

When I write for Vil, I write to help him become a better person. The biggest thing he lacks is interpersonal skills. That's my specialty. I'm fantastic at conflict management, voicing my feelings, and interpersonal communication. My skills help Vil reach his full potential. I want to help him. He's willing to learn to improve himself. That's why I feel so passionate about him. In real life, not many people take my suggestions regarding self-improvement. It's a great joy to write someone who's not only willing but will give it their all. He reminds me of myself in that way. When I first learned about some of my most invaluable skills, I threw myself into it too. I imagine Vil doing the same.

That's why I love writing for Vil.

[z3r0l4b]

Greetings.

Hey so, uh, I never usually share what I write but a friend liked this and I thought I would share it???

It's an attempt to remake one of Eltinville's comics where Josh tells his day as a log.

Anyways...

Domestic Lenunzio

Captain's log: Stardate 7922.7

Woke up early, 06:50 AM. The nights have been better lately. Medication helps me avoid having those nightmares so often.

Although the morning started early, I decided to continue it.

Breakfast was on the table, eggs with mushrooms and ham. Pete had already left, so I didn't get to thank him.

He's complained several times that he doesn't like compliments, but his food is the highlight of my day.

Besides, he keeps asking for feedback on how to improve...

After such morning fuel, I make sure to select and take the necessary medication. The other day I managed to get a pill case that resembles the USS Enterprise emergency munitions. The sequel, not the original series. I don't like to admit it, but it makes all this easier.

As the day began, I took care of a lot of business.

(1) I picked up the mail from the gatehouse. It was crumpled again, handled like garbage, I would send a complaint to the department, but I doubt they'd do anything.

(2) I tried to continue the plot of my most recent work, The Eclipse. But I'm stuck; maybe it's not the day the ideas flow.

(3) I've finished organizing my Back to the Future section. I still can't find a good model of a DeLorean, and the resellers are making it more impossible every day. Such blasphemy.

As an addition to last point, I'd like to mention that Pete managed to get his hands on a printed edition of Leatherface, it was one of the last things he needed to compensate back everything his shitty parent threw in the trash years ago.

I'm not one to boast, but I'm pleased to say that the perfectly blended corner between my sci-fi collection and his horror one looks wonderful.

Hail on Harlan Edison.

• Logged this first report of the day.

For lunch I heated up some burritos that were left over from the night before, with some homemade curry.

I have to remember myself to save one in the middle of my thoughts.

Afterwards, I carefully reviewed the list of my pending writings from the official publisher. They have to approve at least one this time, come one, even good old Jerry helped me correct inconsistencies...

I can't say my fear of the outdoors has improved. But at least today I managed to get to the grocery store a few blocks away without losing control in the middle of a panic attack.

Plus ten points for me.

Fuck university, fuck accounting degree. Four worst years of my life.

Barely into the afternoon, good mate Pete manages to return from work. 03:40 PM, he made good on time today.

Even with the charming enthusiasm that I always offer, he offers me a fucking bite on the neck in return.

The creep still thinks he's a vampire or something, he left another mark on my neck. Not cool.

We took a well-deserved break watching one of Pete's documentaries. Hey, at least this time it wasn't filled with scenes of cannibalism. It's a step forward.

I stayed rewatching some parts of Dune that I want to write about while Pete was preparing dinner, even if the guy doesn't like to admit that he can cook, I wouldn't want to push him too much and deprive myself from its delights.

Jerry keeps sending e-mails about planning to have another role-playing game, but the guy wants to invite his girlfriend and a friend, and I still don't want to leave home.

I try to gauge the circumstances, I don't want to screw this up for Pete, but just thinking about talking to new people overwhelms me.

I don't care if I'm immature, they don't understand.

When night fell, Pete suggested another of his "quick sex quizzes" and because of him, my ass now hurts.

I'm not going to go into details about this, I don't care, you don't care, nobody cares.

The only memorable thing is that the idiot fell asleep after that, and I stayed up for a little longer reading and rearranging some comics I had.

With a last bitter swallow of medicine, I say goodbye as I face another attempt of balanced sleep.

Capt. Josh A. Levy

— Over and out.